


Taken

by PromptBomb



Series: Mini Prompt Fics [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Achievement Hunter Kings, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Mad King Ryan Haywood, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:19:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PromptBomb/pseuds/PromptBomb
Summary: As the tide of battle turns against the Mad King you find yourself suddenly called to his side.





	

You feel the energies pull at your very soul; dark tendrils threading themselves through every fiber of your being, leaving you cold and stunned into silence.  Around you the horrors of war begin to blur and fade away, you barely hear King Geoff’s frantic shout as he attempts to cut through a horde of undead to reach you, the terror etched into his face saying enough as even sound fades away to join your senses in entropy. You must be dead, this is what you think. You no longer feel the weight of your sword arm raised in combat, in fact, you feel completely weightless as the world around you grows darker and the fray falls away into nothingness as you’re forcibly jerked away from the physical plane.

The first sensation you feel is breath filling your lungs, almost forcibly, expanding your chest painfully as the hot, acidic air surges life through your battle worn body. Darkness had etched itself at the corners of your vision, your head spins as you try to gather your bearings. The battlefield is gone, replaced with stone and endless night stained with a glow of fires. In the distance you believe you hear the sounds of swords and screams, but it’s so far off it seems more like a lingering dream than anything. You lift your head from the knelt position you found yourself in just as lightning cracks across the sky, bringing a roar of thunder. Against the flash of light you see a figure, a silhouette of tattered regalia and tilted crown.

You had heard stories of the man before his corruption. King Geoff often mourned for him, for who he was before he had become tainted, before he had taken the mantle of the Mad King. From the stories you understood why the Kings fought so hard, why they held on to some sliver of hope that they might save him from his own demise. But on the Mad Kings face you see only ecstasy, no remorse, as he directs the skies above to open, raining lightning down into the courtyard below where just moments ago you had stood fighting.

“The battle is turning.” You hear him speak, the low tone of his voice sending a shiver through your form as you move to stand. You realize that you are unarmed, not that you believed you could best him in combat. Still, you would feel more confident with the heaviness of a blade in hand. Instead, you opt to answer him with stoic silence, an insurgence that is not lost to him. The Mad King smiles and lowers his outstretched hand to turn from the fray to face you fully. His appearance is not what you expected. He was disheveled, his beard and hair unkempt, his face gaunt with dark half-moons that hung beneath tired eyes. If not for his imposing stance and leering grin you would think he was on the verge of collapse. “Your Kings have slaughtered my creatures, and now, they threaten to tear down my castle stone by stone. I had not thought them to raise an army so eager to die for their cause; a miscalculation on my part.”

You lift your chin, a surge of pride coursing through you. As insane as he was the Mad King knew his defeat was at hand, a conquest bought with mortal blood and determination. Again, at your defiance, he smiles, the tone of his voice sinking even lower as he chuckles. “Yes. My creatures are disposable, easily carved upon your Kings’ blades. But I wonder-“ He muses and reaches out, his slender fingers pressing against your breastplate. The contact is gentle and yet you feel it through every muscle, as sure as if he had plunged his hand through your chest and grasped your heart. The Mad King coos softly within your ear, feigning comfort as a scream rips through your silence. An inky darkness seeps from his touch, it branches out and spreads across armor and flesh, and you feel it crawl up your neck as if you were drowning. The Mad King releases you, physically stumbling backwards as you sink to your knees once more.

They had fought their way through the labyrinth; through the sea of frozen flames that swallowed stone and flesh without discrimination and left the kingdom scarred with the scent of rotting flesh. They had begun their crusade with many; a legion of men and women united in a single cause, to right the wrong that had cast the land into darkness. They had gathered beneath the banner of former kings and architects and tricksters, had pledged their lives to the cause. Now, only the four of them remained, pressing on, leaving the corpses of their fallen mourned and unclaimed as they approach the broken, crumbling castle of the Mad King. It was a poignant advance, through the dark hallways that moaned as their arches began to buckle and crack, threatening to come crashing down upon their heads. The castle had once stood glorious and proud; pristine and shining in prosperity, a beacon of hope. The Mad King had once been one of them, a crusader and a builder. But the land was poisoned, the livestock lay slaughtered in their fields and mothers smothered their own children to save them from wasting away from hunger and disease.

And now, the only thing that stood between their victory, between the Mad King and their hard fought justice, was you. You can see the questions lingering unasked upon their lips, you see the same look of horror upon King Geoff’s face as when you were teleport from their side. Your appearance has shaken their resolve and knowing that you begin to smile. Behind you a thousand eyes alight and glow, silence fills with shifting armor and dragging blades as a new horde emerges to face the already battle worn kings. You draw the blade sheathed at your hip and raise it high, the monstrous horde behind you bellows like a single entity. “For the glory of the Dark God!” you hear a voice cry out and it takes you moment to realize that it is your own.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of your mind, in the darkest parts of your subconscious, there is a scream of protest. But it is quieted by the whispers of the Dark God’s desires murmuring within your head. Whoever you once were, whatever you once fought for and believed in, none of it mattered. You have once purpose now; insure the Dark God’s victory.


End file.
